


Loosening the Knots

by meyari



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyari/pseuds/meyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both tied in knots inside but sometimes they're able to help each other let go a little bit at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loosening the Knots

"You want to do something?" John asks, his eyes not quite meeting Ronon's and his expression uncomfortable.

"Sure," Ronon replies, watching the uncomfortable expression increase and then fade into that almost happy, almost relaxed look that John gets every time Ronon _doesn't_ ask what he means.

They dispose of their dinner dishes, wandering through the halls shoulder to upper arm, since John's shoulder doesn't quite reach Ronon's. It amuses him. It probably shouldn't. They shoot some targets, spend a little time in the gym sparring and once John's limping and sufficiently punished himself for wanting what's coming, Ronon helps him back to his room.

Everyone's used to the routine by now; even McKay no longer comments about John having a fetish for being beaten. The cultural differences between them are huge, but Ronon knows that that's not what's really going on. He thinks that Teyla knows too, which is why she never did more than flirt with John. McKay seems to be oblivious to everything other than the grander gestures of self-destruction. He rails about John strapping himself to a nuke but doesn't appear to notice the lack of sleep, the bruises, the strict denial of everything he wants.

Except Ronon.

Ronon knows that John thinks he should deny himself this too. It shows as he helps John strip. Ronon pulls him into a fierce kiss that's met with equal ferocity. He'd like to think that their sparring was their own kind of foreplay but Ronon, despite his carefully cultivated reputation as a 'caveman', is more intelligent than that. It's not foreplay when John lets Ronon beat on him, when he gets up after having been knocked down so hard that he can't breath and can't see for the sixth time.

Sometimes Ronon wishes that he could go back in time and shoot John's family, his former wife, whoever it was that made him think that he didn't deserve to be happy. He doesn't think that he should have what everyone else has. Sure, John's military is stupid about men together, but John takes it so much farther than just don't ask, don't tell. He's 'don't want', 'don't think', 'don't see', 'don't breathe'. He's 'be good, or else the Wraith will get you'.

He's wrapped in knots that Ronon doesn't think he can ever undo. John can't even see the knots his soul is tied in, as obvious as they are to everyone else. Ronon keeps working at it, trying to give this man who has chosen him a little bit of peace. As John comes apart under him, his face transforms into a thing of beauty that makes the room lights flicker in time with his orgasmic spurts. Ronon finally lets his own knots loose, giving John the part of himself he's kept locked away since Melena, since Sateda, since the Wraith put the tracker in his back. It feels like flying. It feels like falling. It scares him.

"Mine!" Ronon cries out, being careful not to leave marks on John's hips.

"Ronon!" John cries back, his voice breaking from far more than pleasure.

They collapse together, panting, sweaty. Ronon takes care not to crush John. John smiles and pulls him over so that he's draped nearly on top of John, making him pant just a little more than he would otherwise. Ronon chuckles, pretty sure that this isn't a kink thing. John doesn't want to be pinned down. He wants to feel safe until his defenses are back in place. Ronon's glad that he makes John feel safe that way. He'll be John's wall. It's easy enough.

"Good," John mutters.

"Mm-hmm," Ronon hums, carefully not quite hugging him as they shift to a more comfortable position.

"Sleep?" John asks.

"Leave?" Sometimes wants to sleep alone. Sometimes he doesn't. Ronon always asks.

"No," John yawns, wrapping his fingers into Ronon's hand. "'s okay."

Ronon nods, tugging the blankets up and resolving to get up in the night to clean them both up. John doesn't seem to mind waking up this way but it makes Ronon itch. Reminds him of too many years when he couldn't bathe. He'll wait until the dark hours of the night, when John finally drops into a deep dreamless sleep. For now it's okay. John needs him close, needs his shield. Ronon's happy to oblige.

+++++

John runs in front of the team, panting curses while bullets whined around his ears. Teyla is bringing up the rear, firing behind them in an effort to stop their attackers. Rodney is keeping up a steady stream of cajoling complaints as he half carries Ronon to the gate. John dials so quickly that he can't remember pushing the buttons. One minute they're dark and the next they're lit from within and the gate is erupting outwards.

"Drop the shield!" John shouts into his radio as he triggers his GDO. "We're coming in hot, injured. Make sure paramedics are waiting!"

It feels like a decade before they get the all clear. It's less than two seconds. Rodney stumbles up with Ronon slumping more and more over his shoulder. John grabs his other arm, firing one-armed at their attackers. Teyla's managed to catch up with them. She's firing nearly continuously now. They dive through the event horizon, slip-sliding their way across the light years and arriving in Atlantis accompanied by stray bullets. The shield goes up but John doesn't bother listening. He and Rodney are too busy getting Ronon onto the stretcher that Jennifer's brought.

"He'll be okay," Rodney says as they follow Jennifer and her paramedics to the infirmary.

"Yeah," John says, quite aware that the little exchange is being noted in far too many people's memories. He can't quite care when it's Ronon. It bugs him when it's Rodney.

"John!" Sam calls. "We do need to know what happened."

"Later," John growls at her.

She nods, satisfied with the response. She understands. John knows she's been here, watching someone she cares about more than she should hurt, maybe dying, being carried away. Ronon's swept into surgery the instant they arrive in the infirmary. Dr. Lam does their checkups, clears them to get cleaned up. Rodney has a wrap on his wrist. Teyla has a set of butterfly bandages on a cut on her arm. John's got a bunch of bruises including one exactly the size of Ronon's fist on his back from when Ronon shoved him out of the way and took the bullet that would have killed him.

Ronon is still in surgery when they're released. He's still in surgery when they start the briefing. He's still in surgery afterwards, once Sam has declared the planet off limits and made it clear that she wants them to get some rest. The look in her eyes as she meets his glare is all calm acceptance, not warning. John goes straight back to the infirmary. Ronon's still not out.

"John, I think that some food would be good," Teyla says in that quiet, almost cautious voice that doesn't allow for disagreement while still respecting that he will disagree.

"I should be here," John protests, letting her take his arm.

"You will be," Teyla assures him. "I have asked Dr. Lam. Ronon will not be out within the next half hour. You can eat and still be here when he's released. Come. I will wait with you."

"Thanks," John says, his voice going gravely as emotion wells up.

It's different somehow, John thinks as he at first picks at his food and then inhales it. Not because they've got their… thing, whatever it is, but because of Dad. He never thought of his father since he'd left, not really. John doesn't let himself snort. He knew that was a lie. He'd spent his whole life thinking of his father, of all the things he'd approve or disapprove of. He'd tied himself in knots with the twin urges to somehow prove himself to his dad and to make his dad totally write him off.

Being an orphan sucked no matter how old you were.

John hurries back to the infirmary once he finished eating, finding Rodney there pacing and chewing out the nurse for not knowing when Ronon would get out. Teyla appears a couple of minutes later and the three of them wait together. John appreciates it. He doesn't want to be obvious. He wants everyone to know. He paces, fighting inside of his heart and remembering the discussion he'd had with Dave after Ronon went back to Atlantis after the funeral.

_"Dad knew, you know," Dave had said, a little grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile on his lips._

"No, didn't know that," John had replied, his heart freezing solid in his chest.

"Yes," Dave had said, passing John a drink that was all Sheppard and not John. "It was part of why he liked Nancy. He thought she 'fixed' you."

John tossed the drink back rather than answering that. The conversation had turned to money, investments, and the will. All of it was stuff that had to be addressed. None of it mattered. John had money. Patrick Sheppard had left him enough to ensure that John wouldn't have a leg to stand on if he contested the will, but it was small enough that anyone else (Dave) would have wanted to. It was fine by John. He got one of the houses, the ranch that John had always liked. He'd have enough money to retire and not have to work if he didn't want to, especially when combined with his military pension. There were a few books, some investments. One picture of his mother.

"It's cool," John said finally, pushing the stack of paperwork back to Dave. "More than I expected."

"Really?" Dave asked, raising an eyebrow. "All right."

It was late. Dave walked John to his room as though John hadn't memorized the house years ago, when they were children. Dave hesitated outside of John's room, something uncomfortable on his face, like he'd bitten something sour and couldn't spit it out.

"I never thought she fixed you, John," Dave said at last, just as John stepped back to close his door. "I thought she broke you."

"Oh," John said, his heart squeezing. "Okay."

"Ronon seems… interesting," Dave said, not meeting John's eyes. The little smile seemed to say that he meant it. "Sleep well."

"You too," John said, shutting the door.

John still wonders if 'interesting' was Dave-speak for 'it's okay, he's good for you'. He isn't sure. It doesn't matter. Ronon is being wheeled out of surgery, accompanied by an exhausted but triumphant Jennifer who smiles shyly at Rodney's attention and praise. She becomes serious as she steps to John's side.

"He nearly died," Jennifer said in that oddly reassuring 'bad news averted' voice. "He's going to need to take at least a month off, really relax. I wish that I could send him back to Earth to convalesce but there's nowhere for him to go."

"No," John says, his voice strange as his heart squeezes and squeezes at the thought of Ronon dead. "There is somewhere. I'll talk to Sam. I have some vacation, bereavement leave too. I know where he can go and get better."

+++++

"Still not sure about this," Ronon says quietly to John, his arm wrapped around his stomach. "Sure this is okay?"

"It's fine," John reassures Ronon, the lines around his eyes just a little too deep for the words to work. "I've already cleared it with everyone."

"Still, two weeks away?" Ronon asks, nodding towards the rest of the city as Chuck dials Earth. "And then the trip back? That's a long time."

John nods at him, his expression far more calm than Ronon expects. Ronon knows he's never taken this much vacation at once before. He asked Carter. She confirmed it. John is exiling himself from his city, from his responsibilities. Ronon knows that John's doing it for his sake. It cuts worse than a knife but it feels good too. He hadn't thought that John cared about him that much. He doesn't even mind that John's cast it as bereavement leave, not a real vacation.

The trip to Earth is like any other trip. He still thinks the ring at the SGC looks strange and clunky. The SGC itself is dark and oppressive. The doctors seem less caring, or maybe it's the way John glares at them. Maybe it's just that you never forget your first visit to a place. The battle with Teal'c against the Wraith invading Earth colored his perception of the SGC. He was very glad to get outside, away from the concrete and metal halls that made him expect drones around every corner.

"How far do we have to go?" Ronon asks, settling into the seat of the car John's rented with a tired sigh. His stomach hurts. So does his chest. And his shoulder. And that spot on his thigh.

"Long ways, Chewie," John drawls. "Rest. I'll wake you when we get there."

"Wake me for food in an hour or two," Ronon says, tilting the seat back and relaxing.

"Sure," is all John says. The car's rumble settles to a steady drone and sooner than Ronon expects darkness is claiming him. It feels like very little time when the rumble stops and Ronon wakes, but it's much later. The sun's moved a quarter of the way across the sky.

"Food?" John asks, nodding to the building they're parked in front of.

"Sure," Ronon says, righting his seat and following John inside.

He can read the signs and menus just fine but he isn't sure what the names of the food mean. He lets John order for him, content to try 'chicken and dumplings', 'macaroni and cheese', 'fish and chips'. John calls his selections comfort food. Ronon just eats them. 'Belgium' waffles are thicker than regular ones and come with syrupy fruit and whipped cream on top. Ronon orders a second plate of those. 'Chicken' tastes like digi back home. It's strange when Ronon finds out that chicken is a bird instead of a small four-legged burrow dweller.

It takes two days of quiet driving and lots of sleep to reach the place that John's chosen for their rest. It's a ranch, complete with four legged animals John calls horses and a big building that's spread out over on sprawling level. There are people John calls ranch hands who nod respectfully to John. They eye Ronon with curiosity. The curiosity turns to respect when they're told that Ronon's recovering from being shot several times. John makes a point to tell them that Ronon took the bullets to save his life.

"They think I'm your bodyguard?" Ronon asks as John puts their luggage in the same big room. The bed's easily four times their beds back on Atlantis.

"Maybe," John says, shrugging. "I pay their wages. They won't say anything one way or the other."

"Good," Ronon says, meaning it. At least he won't have to hurt them to ensure they don't out John. He isn't sure he can do it right now.

He eyes the bed, seriously tempted to take a nap. He decides not to, following John back out of the big bedroom. John gives him a tour, pointing out places where he played with his brother. That bench is where his mother told him stories as a little boy. That pasture was where he had his first horse-riding lesson. That's where he went skinny dipping for the first time.

"You took me home," Ronon says when John runs out of things to say. It takes longer than Ronon expects.

"Yeah," John says, shrugging. "It's mine now. My father left it to me in the will."

"Thanks," Ronon says, unable to find words that don't go places that they've agreed without words not to go.

Besides he isn't sure that there are words for what he's feeling. 'Home' is something he's thought was gone. There is no home for him to go to. Ronon reaches out and touches the tree that reaches out over the pond that John learned to swim in. It almost makes him cry. This is part of John's past, part of his life before Ronon met him. It's his history and John's sharing it the only way he seems comfortable with. It's _home_ and John's letting Ronon become a part of it. John's fingers slip into Ronon's hand, squeezing gently.

"When you're stronger," John says and his voice has that gravely tone that tells Ronon he's fighting against emotions that are too strong for him to speak, "I'll see if we can swing some horse-riding lessons. I haven't been riding in years."

"I'd like that," Ronon says in his gravely voice, squeezing back. His fingers trace the bark of the tree. "Maybe some swimming once my incisions close up."

"Sure," John says, the nod of agreement a flash of dark hair in the corner of Ronon's eye.

Ronon steps over and slowly sits, his back against the tree's trunk. John sits next to him, leaning into his side in a way that's more blatant than Ronon's ever experienced. Ronon wraps an around him, feeling protective of this more open John.

"Really not worried," Ronon whispers, shaking just a little as several knots loosen in his heart. "You took me home, your home. They can see us."

"No," John says, a wry little smile on his lips and sorrow in his eyes. "Dave's known for years. Dad knew. It's okay. We're safe here."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."


End file.
